


For Each Other and For the Lovers

by FTSMotherPumpkin



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Eventual Romance, F/F, First Kiss, Happy Ending, Meeting Again, New York City, Paris (City), Songfic, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FTSMotherPumpkin/pseuds/FTSMotherPumpkin
Summary: Two women meet in Paris, and then again in New York. All the while, fate works its magic.
Relationships: Minatozaki Sana/Myoui Mina
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41
Collections: Girl Group Jukebox - Mixtape Round





	1. Paris Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for GG Jukebox Mixtape Round, inspired by Paris Nights/New York Mornings by Corinne Bailey Rae.
> 
> Holy crap, I didn't think I was gonna actually get this done because I really cannot with deadlines but I DID IT. I've loved this song for years and knew there was a story in it somewhere but it took me this long to tease it out.

The small bistro Mina works at is bustling, the evening supper rush filling every seat. She can barely breathe between taking orders and refilling wine glasses, stopping only to bus tables and run credit card payments. Tonight’s special is mussels in an herb vinaigrette; she can smell the tarragon and preserved lemon as she carries a whole tray of bowls through the restaurant. A patron stops her to ask for something and it pains her to have to defer their request to one of her native coworkers. Her French isn’t perfect, still halting at times, but she tries her best to scribble down new vocabulary she learns on the back pages of her order pad to study later on.

She has only been in Paris for six months and most of her time is spent in the dance studio. Ballet is a demanding career path, one that doesn’t always translate into success. Many of the other dancers at the ballet academy take themselves and their future prospects very seriously, but Mina thinks of herself as more of a realist.

In a country full of ballerinas, she knows she isn’t destined to be a star. She is too short, not lean enough, not as elegant as some of her classmates. One can only rely so much on passion.

But rather than ruminate on her shortcomings, she sees this as an opportunity to experience life in another country. She finds immense joy in browsing the weekly farmers market in her neighborhood, and delights in discovering tiny shops hidden away off the main drag. The barista at the cafe two doors down from her flat knows her by name. The bistro is part of that, a part time job she doesn’t need and yet, is sometimes her favorite part of the week.

Arms full of dirty dishes, she slinks past another waitress when her ears pick up the familiar lilt of her native language. She turns to see a beautiful woman, definitely Japanese and definitely struggling to communicate. Long ponytail swishing as she shakes her head, the woman resorts to haphazard hand gestures when language fails. Empathy tugs at Mina’s heart; she knows all too well what it is like to feel utterly foreign. Rushing to rid herself of the dishes, she wipes her hands on her striped apron and tells her coworker she can take it from here.

“Hi, I can help you with that,” Mina puts on her best customer service voice, “I’m Japanese too.” The woman looks surprised and then immensely grateful, a smile broadening on her face. They go through the menu dish by dish until the woman settles on steak frites.

“Thank you so much for your help,” she says as she hands Mina the menu, “it’s my first time in France.” The woman folds her hands under her chin with her elbows on the marble tabletop. It almost seems like she is expecting Mina to park herself in the other seat so they can continue conversing.

Mina’s mouth is suddenly padded with cotton. She wants to say something, anything, but then another patron waves her down for more beer so she simply gives what she hopes is an apologetic nod before dashing off.

It isn’t until a few hours later when the last remaining diners are finishing their drinks and desserts that Mina notices the Japanese woman still sitting there. The last swig of champagne fizzes at the bottom of her glass while one hand props her chin up, the other scrolling lazily through her phone. Her striped button down shirt and well-fitting jeans look neatly pressed and though Mina expected to see heels, the woman wears a pair of black sneakers.

“Can I get you anything else?” her ears heat up when the woman’s gaze shifts from the screen to her face.

“I was wondering if maybe you could show me around Paris,” the woman says softly. Her long eyelashes flutter as she blinks.

If not for the small tilt of her head as she awaits an answer, Mina might think she is joking; it’s half past eleven on a Tuesday night, after all. Most of Paris is closed, all the places she can think to take a first timer at least. And really, Mina doesn’t even know this woman’s name.

“None of those tourist places, I’ve seen enough of that,” the woman clarifies, “Some place off the beaten path. You live here, right?” She gives Mina a tired, but adventurous smile, “I’m sure you know somewhere.”

Mina nods slowly. She hasn’t quite wrapped her head around the situation.

“Mina? We’re closing up, go ahead and leave with your friend.” Mina’s coworker, a particularly tall man she knows from the academy, places a hand on her shoulder to assure her. He even hands over her coat and satchel from the back room, simply grinning and waving off her protests.

Meanwhile, the woman finishes the last sip of her champagne and gathers her belongings before linking arms with Mina. She calls out thank you in grossly mispronounced French as the glass door shuts behind them. The streets are quiet in this area, most storefronts shuttered for the night and the rest casting a soft glow in the dark between streetlights.

“So you’re Mina, huh?” the woman asks after they’ve reached the end of the cobblestone block, “I’m Sana. Bet you can tell from my accent where I’m from.”

Mina can; there is no mistaking a Kansai accent.

“I’m actually from Kobe,” Mina confesses, a twinge of pride swelling within her at Sana’s delighted reaction. She has never really given much thought to her hometown but she finds herself smiling as Sana squeezes their entangled arms tight.

“So, I want you to take me somewhere that means something to you,” Sana leans in close to Mina as if to tell her a secret, her enthusiasm contagious. It takes Mina a minute to think of a place, briefly sidetracked by the scent of Sana’s fruity perfume, but it feels perfect when she recalls how close it is.

Sana is very chatty, quite extroverted in comparison to Mina’s reserved nature. On their short walk, Mina learns that Sana is a flight attendant for a Japanese airline and, despite having worked international flights for a couple years now, this is her first trip to France. After having spent the past few days exploring tourist destinations with some coworkers, her flight back to Osaka leaves first thing in the morning.

They turn a corner, following a narrow alleyway until it opens into a small plaza. It’s classically European, with an illuminated water feature bubbling in the center, surrounded by benches and a few stone chess tables. Mina leads Sana to a particular spot at the perimeter beneath a large chestnut tree. The two of them sit with their knees angled towards each other.

“And what makes this place so special?” Sana asks. One of her hands finds a place on Mina’s knee.

“I came here my second day in Paris. I was starving from exploring the neighborhood.” Mina points just past Sana’s shoulder, “I bought a sandwich from that little bakery over there and sat here to eat it. And even though it was simple, just ham and butter on a baguette, it was the most delicious sandwich I’ve ever had,” Mina explains.

She pauses and Sana squeezes her knee, encouraging her to continue.

“I looked around at the people and the cars and I felt like I was just where I belonged,” she nearly whispers. “It felt nice to breathe some different air, and live a different life.”

It feels like a confession, telling Sana how stifled she felt before moving here. Going through the motions of work and wanting nothing more than to go home. But once she got there, she would find her apartment and girlfriend suffocating. She spiraled in an endless cycle of monotony until it became depression. The months leading up to her departure were rough; it pains her to think about the days she spent staring at the bedroom ceiling, wishing it would just collapse down on her.

Mina looks up for the first time since she started her story, finding this strange woman looking at her intently. Her large, round eyes never stray, as if nothing else in the entire world could be as interesting as their conversation.

For the first time in a very long time, Mina feels important. She exists, she is seen, she matters.

“Seems like you made the right choice then. Paris suits you,” Sana remarks, nodding for emphasis. It almost seems subconscious, the way she strokes Mina’s knee so casually. The intimacy is not unwelcome, but Mina isn’t quite sure how to read the situation. No one is waiting for her back at her flat, and yet it doesn’t seem right to fall so easily for a beautiful stranger. Especially one that is leaving France in mere hours. Her gaze falls to Sana’s lips. She doesn’t want to admit how enticing they look.

A drop of water on her nose surprises Mina. She doesn’t recall her weather app forecasting rain but here it is, peppering her skin and leaving spots of wetness on her jeans. When she looks back at Sana, the woman’s hair glimmers with tiny jewels of rain.

“Guess that’s a sign we should both be getting home,” Sana sighs after checking her watch. It has to be past midnight by now, Mina has no idea how long they’ve been sitting here. Sana’s hand, now rubbing the crook of Mina’s elbow, pulls back as she perches her purse on her lap. “Thanks for showing me a real piece of Paris.”

Mina shakes her head modestly; she’s the one who should be thanking Sana for listening.

“Do you need help getting back to your hotel?” she asks as they both stand. Thankfully, the rain isn’t too heavy so their coats, while not waterproof, aren’t yet soaked through. Sana shakes her head; her hotel isn’t too far so she thinks she can make it on her own.

A sense of awkwardness settles between them for the first time all night. Mina wrings her hands, at a loss of how to proceed. Do they just say goodbye? Do they exchange contact information? Sana, on the other hand, fiddles with the ends of her wet hair, just barely peeking at Mina from beneath her lashes.

“I hope you have a safe flight tomorrow,” Mina immediately regrets how formal she sounds, taking note of a small upward twitch at the corner of Sana’s mouth.

Sana takes a step closer, her shyness short-lived, and plants a single, gentle kiss on Mina’s lips. Not a peck but no more than tender lips pressing flush against each other. It lasts just a couple of seconds before Sana pulls back with a smile. She gives a little wave before walking off and disappearing down the main street.

Not until she gets home does Mina realize that her favorite pair of silk flats are utterly ruined.

Quite frankly, she couldn’t care less.


	2. New York Mornings

Mina never expects to see Sana again.

Certainly not seven years later, in a bar in Brooklyn, perched on a stool beside Mina’s coworker. Mina teaches dance now, after school instruction for kids nine to twelve. And sometimes she’ll get work as a choreographer for recitals and the like. Momo, the birthday girl, specializes in hip hop whereas Mina has strayed little from her past; mostly ballet with some contemporary thrown in for fun.

But it’s definitely her.

There is no mistaking those eyes, ones Mina has yet to forget even after all this time. A split second of surprise flashes in them but they are already smiling when Momo waves Mina over to introduce them. She looks great, though some of that may have to do with her outfit. Mina tries not to stare, Sana’s black bodycon dress shows off her collarbone and slim legs.

“This is Sana, my friend from college,” Momo slings an arm over her shoulders, “she’s a flight attendant and finally decided to join the rest of us expats out here. She’s staying with me and Jeongyeonie until she can find a place.”

“Just thought it might be nice to breathe some different air, and live a different life,” Sana directs her gaze right at Mina.

Mina digs her nails into her palm to keep from reacting, but the secret smirk on Sana’s face lets her know she’s already been caught. She rationalizes that the heat creeping up her skin is from not having had the chance to remove her coat.

“Wow, that’s poetic, how long have you been practicing that one?” Jeongyeon, Momo’s girlfriend, teases, popping up beside them and handing Mina a vodka soda. Mina takes a quick sip, hoping to keep the blush at bay.

“Around...seven years?” Sana pretends to think about it, one pale pink nail tapping at her chin. The others chuckle at the specific number but Mina’s stomach flutters at the memory. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet Momo’s friends here, hopefully we can become friends too!”

Mina nods immediately, taking a second gulp of her drink.

...

One bar turns into two, turns into three, and then a small lesbian nightclub where the music is loud and the girls are exquisite. Mina hasn’t been out in months, and truthfully, she isn’t much of a clubgoer to begin with, but the buzz she has going helps.

She stays on the dance floor for a few songs, letting herself just feel the music instead of concentrating meticulously as she does when she works on choreography for her students. A hand brushes her hip and she flinches, whipping her head to find herself face to face with Sana.

“Sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” Sana yells over the booming mashup of 90s hip hop classics. Mina shakes her head, her smile fading when Sana’s lips continue to move, but her voice fades out. Without thinking, she takes hold of the other girl’s wrist and leads her over to the bar.

“I couldn’t really hear you,” she explains once they’re seated at the far end of the counter, each nursing a weak drink. “You look...good.”

“You look pretty good yourself,” Sana grins. She eyes Mina’s short skirt and bare legs briefly, a blatant contrast to the casual waitress look Mina had on the last time they met. Reaching out, she fingers the ends of Mina’s hair. “You make a good blonde.”

Mina is for once thankful for her cheeks flushing when she drinks, so Sana can’t see just how much she’s blushing.

“I was shocked to see you walk in the door,” Sana continues, “felt like it was my birthday, not Momo’s.” She runs the tip of her finger through the condensation surfacing on the side of her glass.

Seven years of imagining how this reunion might go and Mina still has no idea what to say.

“I...I never thought I’d ever see you again,” she murmurs, “I hoped I would but...”

She won’t admit how much she searched, the fruitless hours she spent scouring social media for flight attendants named Sana with no last name to go by. It felt pathetic at the time, so much so that Mina occasionally hoped she’d just dreamed the whole thing up.

Having Sana here in the flesh is a second chance, one she isn’t keen to give up.

“Maybe we should get out of here, it isn’t really a great place to chat,” Mina bites her lip, hoping Sana doesn’t think she’s being too forward. But when she agrees, Mina throws down cash to cover their tab while Sana texts Momo to let the couple know she’ll find her own way home.

It’s chilly when they make their way out of the club and onto the street. Mina pulls her coat tighter around herself, the warmth of all the alcohol they’ve consumed already wearing off. Sana links arms with her, just like that night seven years ago.

“Where to?” she asks as she lightly rests her head on Mina’s shoulder. “You live here, right? I’m sure you know somewhere.” The pair smile at each other.

“Are you hungry? I know a place,” Mina starts off in the direction of her favorite all-night diner. It feels a bit like deja-vu, but this time, they walk in silence; a calm, comfortable sort of silence that neither feels the need to break. Mina sneaks a look at Sana’s profile. She really is beautiful, illuminated by the blue hour’s light. 

Several blocks later, the diner’s neon sign beckons them. Inside, it’s warm and smells of coffee and bacon grease. The jukebox in the corner plays Elvis Presley. Mina can’t quite explain why it feels like home, easily shedding her coat and sliding into a booth by the window. She sits with her elbows on the laminate tabletop as Sana follows in suit.

“Sorry, it’s nothing fancy,” Mina apologizes after ordering them a couple of hot coffees, “but this place is the best when you’re kinda drunk.” She reaches for one of the large menus, going through the menu line by line with Sana once more.

Mina orders her usual, two sunny side up eggs and hash browns, but Sana gets french toast.

“A tribute to us,” she giggles.

...

“So, did you ever find what you were looking for in France?” Sana asks once she gets over her wide-eyed shock at the portion size. She takes a bite of her syrup-soaked french toast with a happy smile.

Mina chews thoughtfully. She’d ended up staying two more years at the academy in Paris before returning to Japan for a short while. New York was a surprise offer, nothing she’d ever imagined. Yet, four years later, Mina didn’t think she could be happier.

But Sana had always been the what if, the last missing puzzle piece she couldn’t help but wonder about.

“In the end, yeah,” she decides, “and she’s right across from me.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the GG Jukebox mods for hosting this fun speed round!
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


End file.
